


Summertime Sadness

by NewSpy



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Awkward Carlos, Cecil is Inhuman, Comfort/Angst, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I'm not a good judge of these things, It has fluffy and comforting moments, M/M, Song Lyrics, Songfic, The Author Regrets Nothing, i guess, i think, mostly angst, post-Company Picnic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2138856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewSpy/pseuds/NewSpy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos might be trapped in a desert Other World, but Cecil has to continue even as he thinks of all the good times he and Carlos had. Thankfully, he has good friends taking care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't quite tie into any of my other stories, just saying. I just heard Summertime Sadness by Lana del Rey and thought of Cecil immediately. So this. Instead of updating fics or working on my driver's ed stuff.
> 
> Cecil is inhuman. He's a former god of night who lost most of his powers and suppresses the rest. His tattoos are a manifestation of his powers. Carlos knows this and doesn't care. Because Carlos is awesome.
> 
> An Intended is kind of like a soul mate except you develop a mental bond with your Intended. Everyone in Night Vale knows their Intended on sight. Carlos takes some getting used to the idea.

**ĸíѕѕ мє нαя∂ вєƒσяє уσυ gσ, ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ ******

_Cecil almost always wakes up before Carlos does. It’s in Cecil’s nature to wake as soon as the twilight falls across the desert. He’s never understood it, but it’s always been that way for him. Once upon a time, he found it exasperating. Then again, once upon a time, he didn’t have Carlos._

_Carlos, his beautiful, sweet, perfect, wonderful Carlos. Carlos, who curls into Cecil when he sleeps, who wraps his arms around him as if he’s afraid Cecil will disappear in the night. As if Cecil would. Or could._

_“You’re thinking too hard,” Carlos mumbles into his shoulders, arms tightening around Cecil’s waist._

_“Not,” Cecil insists, grinning boyishly because even now, there’s something about sharing his apartment with Carlos. It makes him think of being a teen home alone with his first boyfriend again, that faint, electric,_ oh my God, he’s here, alone, with me! __

_“Are too,” Carlos insists right back. Cecil can feel Carlos’ grin against his shoulders._

_It takes a bit of effort because Carlos is strong and stubborn, even mostly asleep, and he hates letting go of Cecil, but eventually Cecil manages to flip himself so he’s face to face with Carlos. He presses his forehead to Carlos’, a warm smile tugging his lips because this, this is what he loves so much: mornings (evenings, technically, given Night Vale’s nocturnal schedule) with Carlos, Carlos’ sleepy morning smile that’s warm and honest and oh-so-open, Carlos’ sleep-rumpled hair that makes him think of a lion’s mane, and the way Carlos’ arms are still wrapped around his waist, how the other man’s hands trace soothing, gentle patterns in the small of his back._

_And Cecil is struck by the terrible, fatalistic certainty that this is the last morning he’ll have like this in a long time._

_Carlos, who almost drifted back to sleep, looks at him in more alert concern when he feels Cecil stiffen in his arms. “Cecil?” he mumbles, mostly into his boyfriend’s hair as Cecil buries his face into Carlos’ shoulder. “Cecil, what’s wrong?”_

_He can’t reply, for once in his life, he can’t find the words. Because he just wants Carlos to be safe, more than anything, he wants Carlos to be_ safe _, but everything that’s been happening isn't safe. He could get in so much trouble with his plans, and he doesn’t want Carlos to bear the brunt of that. But, but…_

_His miserable train of thought is cut off when Carlos’ hands, warm and strong and scarred, cradle his cheeks with such delicacy. Carlos’ dark eyes are completely alert as they consider Cecil’s before they flick up to Cecil’s third eye._

_Carlos is one of the few people who know his third eye, just like the rest of his “tattoos”, is more than just ink impressed into skin: it’s a representation of his power, his ability,_ him _. The marks on his skin are his past, his present, and his future for anyone who cares to decipher it. And of all the people Cecil’s known, Carlos is the only one to ever truly_ look _._

_“You just saw something didn’t you?” Carlos asks, and Cecil knows his third eye is almost completely open. It hasn't opened entirely for a very long time, and Cecil is grateful it hasn’t. Bad things happen when it’s open all the way._

_Cecil nods miserably, arms snaking around Carlos’ shoulders to cling. It’s just a breath into his ear, barely a sound, but Carlos murmurs, “The parade?” Cecil’s grip tightens; that’s all Carlos needs to know. Carlos coaxes one of Cecil’s arms from around his shoulder to press his hand to Cecil’s palm-to-palm. The gesture reassures Cecil, who intertwines their fingers together. Their hands are nearly the same color, but Carlos’ hands are rough and heavy from working with them his whole life; Cecil’s hands are comparatively slim and soft from working at the station and Cecil’s natural resistance to injury._

_“It’ll be fine Cecil. Promise.”_

_Cecil can’t form an articulate response so he kisses Carlos, a hard, desperate kiss. He can feel Carlos start in surprise against him; Carlos melts into the all too easily, hands smoothing across Cecil’s cheeks to rest at the back of his head as Cecil clings to Carlos in a desperate bid to make sure he doesn’t go._

_It’s Carlos who breaks the kiss, pupils dilated in his eyes, cheeks flushed, as he rests his hands on Cecil’s cheeks once more. “Cecil Palmer, I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. I promise, I’m not leaving you, not now, not ever.”_

**í Ĵυѕт ωαηтє∂ уσυ тσ ĸησω тнαт, вαву, уσυ'яє тнє вєѕт**

/=\=/=\=/=\=/=\ 

******í gσт му яє∂ ∂яєѕѕ ση тσηígнт, ∂αη¢íηg íη тнє ∂αяĸ íη тнє ραℓє мσσηℓígнт.  
∂σηє му нαíя υρ яєαℓ вíg вєαυту qυєєη ѕтуℓє, нígн нєєℓѕ σƒƒ, í'м ƒєєℓíηg αℓíνє** ** **

_”You’re hopeless without t-shirts and jeans, aren’t you?” Cecil teases Carlos, who returns his fond grin with a half-annoyed, half-amused look. “Let me help.”_

_Carlos acquiesces because they both know Cecil is the dressier one between the two of them. “What’s wrong with t-shirts and jeans?” Carlos demands in his warm, mellow tones as Cecil fidgets with his shirt buttons and smooths down the collar on Carlos’ best dress shirt: a red thing with a black design stitched into the left shoulder._

_“Nothing,” Cecil replies lightly. The “_ as long as you’re in it _” goes unspoken but not unsaid. “But I thought it would be fun to dress up a bit and go out.”_

_“It’ll be nice,” Carlos agrees. Cecil smiles, happy that Carlos looks so eager. “Where did you say we’re going now?” he asks, as both he and Cecil slide into their shoes: dress shoes for Cecil, since that’s all he wears, and boots for Carlos since it works nicely with his red shirt (with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, showing of the muscle there) and dark jeans that cling in all the right ways. And if Cecil’s looking, well, he has the right to check out his boyfriend!_

_“This little dance club in Oracle.” Oracle being the city closest to Night Vale at a 30 minute drive. “That okay?”_

_Cecil’s heart flutters in his chest as Carlos hugs him from behind, resting his chin on Cecil’s shoulder. “Sounds wonderful.” And he sounds genuinely sincere, his tone bright and aware in a way that he normally only gets when talking about science. And his excitement makes Cecil even more eager to go so he tugs Carlos in the direction of the door, practically vibrating in excitement._

******σн, му gσ∂, í ƒєєℓ íт íη тнє αíя; тєℓєρнσηє ωíяєѕ αвσνє αяє ѕíźźℓíηg ℓíĸє α ѕηαяє  
нσηєу, í'м ση ƒíяє, í ƒєєℓ íт єνєяуωнєяє, ησтнíηg ѕ¢αяєѕ мє αηумσяє** ** **

_When they finally leave their apartment (and isn’t that amazing, being able to say_ their apartment _), they slide into Cecil’s car and take off. And even though he’s lived in Night Vale since before it was Night Vale, everything feels so_ new _and exhilarating. He credits it to Carlos, who’s grinning so wide, Cecil’s mouth hurts just looking at it. That doesn’t stop him from matching the expression as his tattoos writhe in excitement under his leather jacket._

_As the boyfriends speed down Route 800, even bathed in the light from the UFOs that follow them, Carlos doesn’t panic, not like he once would’ve._

_Nothing scares him anymore. And nothing should scare his precious Carlos, not with Cecil by his side._

/=\=/=\=/=\=/=\ 

**ĸíѕѕ мє нαя∂ вєƒσяє уσυ gσ**  
 **ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ**  
 **í Ĵυѕт ωαηтє∂ уσυ тσ ĸησω тнαт, вαву, уσυ'яє тнє вєѕт**

It’s hard, being back in Night Vale without Carlos. 

Cecil glares at the bottle, determined not to take it. With a huff, a rolls over and curls into as small a ball as he can manage. It shouldn’t hurt this much. Not even close to this much. He’s lost partners before (and Carlos isn’t even dead, just trapped in a desert Other World and _it feels like someone kicked him viciously in the ribs_ when he thinks about it), but the urge to drink has never been a physical sensation, not a near-desperate need to forget everything. 

It doesn’t surprise Cecil though. Carlos is special, his Intended, and Cecil couldn’t imagine being happy without him. He tried explaining what an Intended is, and the nearest approximation Carlos could come up with is a soul mate. And a soul mate is so _different_ , doesn’t even come close to describing the connection between your Intended. He never thought he’d have to explain it to someone because everyone in Night Vale _knows_ who their Intended is with absolute certainty. 

And then the bond began forming, that inkling, that knowing what your Intended is thinking or feeling at any given moment. With that, it was so exciting to explore and share, to understand Carlos on a more fundamental level than he ever would of thought. And he was, and is, happy that Carlos can feel his joy and understand Cecil more than any other being except his brother. 

And that’s it, the thought of his brother, his _twin_ that he hasn’t seen in so long, is the nail in the coffin. He sits up and grabs the bottle in a single jerky motion. 

And for one night, memories of his and Carlos’ last morning together on Parade Day are pushed away. All he can think of is void. 

******í gσт тнαт ѕυммєятíмє, ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ, ѕ-ѕ-ѕυммєятíмє, ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ  
gσт тнαт ѕυммєятíмє, ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ, σн, σн, σн, σн, σн** ** **

/=\=/=\=/=\=/=\ 

**í'м ƒєєℓíη' єℓє¢тяí¢ тσηígнт, ¢яυíѕíηg ∂σωη тнє ¢σαѕт gσíη' 'вσυт 99**  
 **gσт му вα∂ вαву ву му нєανєηℓу ѕí∂єe**  
 **í ĸησω íƒ í gσ, í'ℓℓ ∂íє нαρρу тσηígнт**

_“Cecil, where are we going?” Carlos asks, a laugh in his voice as Cecil tugs him along._

_“It’s a surprise! Come on!” Cecil beams, grabbing Carlos’ keys on the way out of their apartment. He pulls a bit too hard, and Carlos stumbles; Cecil immediately freezes, guilt washing over him because_ stupid, you should be more careful, what if you hurt him? _but Carlos only laughs at his exuberance._

_“Okay, okay I’m coming!” Carlos grins, and it makes Cecil so happy, knowing Carlos will never judge him, no matter what happens. And he’s so grateful for that because, for all his abilities show him, Cecil will never understand what he did to deserve his dear Carlos._

_Cecil drives, leading them out of town way too fast. One of things he’ll never get tired of is driving fast. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to flying, and he’s grateful for even a small taste of it. Especially with Carlos by his side, laughing as wind from the rolled-down window tangles his dark curls._

_“Slow down Cecil! You’re going to kill us!” Carlos yells, more joking than serious if his expression is anything to go by. Cecil grins, putting on just a little more gas, going just a little faster because this is perfect. He could die like this, and he’d die happy._

******σн, му gσ∂, í ƒєєℓ íт íη тнє αíя; тєℓєρнσηє ωíяєѕ αвσνє αяє ѕíźźℓíηg ℓíĸє α ѕηαяє  
нσηєу, í'м ση ƒíяє, í ƒєєℓ íт єνєяуωнєяє, ησтнíηg ѕ¢αяєѕ мє αηумσяє** ** **

_The sunset tinges everything in red-purple-indigo-black power, and it’s electrifying. Carlos might not see it, but Cecil can see the energy all around him. The fading sun gives way to the moon which radiates cool, clean energy; the telephone wires lining the road sizzle. And all of this energy leaves him feeling like he’s on fire in a good way. He itches with strength. It’s almost like the first stretch of his existence, the raw power he felt when he was first created. This is different though: instead of the power being his to use, it’s simply there as something he’s aware of. And that’s okay._

_There’s only a faint hint of light by the time Cecil pulls off the road, nestled between two towering mesas. Perfect._

_Carlos doesn’t say anything as Cecil leans over the center console into the back seat to grab a blanket and little bag of food. He does catch Cecil by surprise by catching him in a quick, sweet kiss when Cecil pulls back to the front seat. “So,” Carlos says, eyes dancing and a charming little smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “What is all of this?”_

_“Go outside and look up,” Cecil instructs as he bustles out of the car to set up their impromptu picnic. It takes a few moments, but he can feel it when it happens and glances up at Carlos. Carlos, who is looking awe-struck as meteors streak across the sky, whose eyes dance with childish excitement, who turns those eyes on Cecil with such awe and love and care that he blushes red._

_“Cecil,” he starts, voice filled with hushed astonishment. “What is…? How…?”_

_Cecil grins, tugging Carlos onto the blanket he settled on the ground. Carlos flops down, arranging his limbs into a comfortable pile; he never once looks away from the sky that’s streaked with lines of light._

_He does look down when Cecil wiggles his way onto Carlos’ lap, leaning so he’s back-to-chest with Carlos. Strong arms wrap around his waist as Carlos rests his chin on Cecil’s shoulder. “Cecil… Thank you,” he murmurs, watching the night sky. “This is so beautiful. Thank you so much for showing me this.”_

_Cecil hums, turning to press a slow, gentle kiss to Carlos’ lips. When they break away, both men are smiling, warm and bright. “Think nothing of it, my dear Carlos.”_

/=\=/=\=/=\=/=\ 


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cecil's so old (in History Week, it's said there's proof of people living in the Night Vale area going back to 4,000 BC, & since Cecil's been around since the beginning...), he forgets things. Like technology. And modern English. Usually if he's really upset/anxious/distressed about something.

**ĸíѕѕ мє нαя∂ вєƒσяє уσυ gσ**  
 **ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ**  
 **í Ĵυѕт ωαηтє∂ уσυ тσ ĸησω тнαт, вαву, уσυ'яє тнє вєѕт**

When he gets home after his show, he’s tired. Bone dead, exhausted, doesn’t think he’ll ever move again tired. He’s never been so tired, he never even _knew_ a person could this tired.

He stumbles to his couch, flopping down with all the grace he can’t muster. He buries his face in the couch cushions and doesn’t move for some time. He doesn’t go to bed though, not now, not yet. If he can wait just a little longer, stay up for one more moment, maybe he’ll be too tired to dream because his dreams are going to be the end of him one of these days.

His cellphone trills in his pocket, though Cecil is momentarily confused by the chirping. He fumbles with the device for a moment and stares blankly at it. For a moment, he’s utterly confused then it hits him like a ton of bricks. Oh. Oh yeah. He knows how to use this. “‘Lo?” he asks around a yawn.

“Hello Cecil,” Old Woman Josie greets, chipper as ever. “Glad to see you remembered how to use a phone dear.”

Cecil grimaces, not at all pleased with that particular memory. He couldn’t help it though. Stress did funny things to his memory. Like when he forgot English that one time.

“At least you haven’t forgotten English again,” Josie adds lightly.

“Ugh!” Cecil groans. “It was one time!”

“I know dear. Would you like to come for a visit? I think the company would do you some good.”

Cecil’s face twists as he tries to decide what he wants. On one hand, he just wants to sit home and sulk. That sounds really nice. On the other hand, he craves companionship. He needs to be around somebody, see someone. Besides, Josie is an old friend of his, and they haven’t seen each other in a while. “Will Erika be there?”

“Oh, yes, they’re back for a visit.”

Well then. “I’ll be over soon.”

And he goes. He catches up with old friend. He meets two beings name Erika. Both are remarkably tall with long, spindly bodies and limbs; six yellow eyes dot their torsos, and purple marks glow on their wings. And they both have third eyes like Cecil. Huh. The only difference between them is that one is white and the other is black.

All in all, it’s good. It’s distracting and heartening in a way he hasn’t felt in some time. He’s about to leave when one of the Erika’s--the black one--taps him on the shoulder. It offers him a feather, and he gets the impression that it’s for Carlos.

He smiles weakly because Carlos wanted an angel’s feather for religious and scientific reasons; both are so important to him. “ _Thank you_ ,” he whispers, and he’s certain it’s not English.

**í gσт тнαт ѕυммєятíмє, ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ, ѕ-ѕ-ѕυммєятíмє, ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ  
gσт тнαт ѕυммєятíмє, ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ, σн, σн, σн, σн, σн**

/=\=/=\=/=\=/=\

**тнíηĸ í'ℓℓ мíѕѕ уσυ ƒσяєνєя ℓíĸє тнє ѕтαяѕ мíѕѕ тнє ѕυη íη тнє мσяηíηg ѕĸу  
ℓαтєя'ѕ вєттєя тнαη ηєνєя єνєη íƒ уσυ'яє gσηє í'м gσηηα ∂яíνє (∂яíνє, ∂яíνє)**

The knock on the door surprises him. Yes, people have been very supportive since Carlos saved all of Night Vale, but they normally call before popping in to check in on him. It’s nice, knowing all these people care for him. He feels a bit less lonely.

He manages to spear the last bit of his egg on his fork (what can he say? he’s lazy and eggs are easy to make) before it can slide too far before answering the door. “Oh, hey Earl!” Cecil’s aware his voice is high in that odd way it gets when he’s surprised, and Earl smiles at him.

“Hey Cee,” Earl greets, offering him a smile. “Heard you were upset. Mind if I come in?”

Cecil’s moving out of the way before he processes what’s going on because he’s relieved to see Earl. They hadn’t talked much since Earl became sous chef at Tourniquet, but it’s good to see him.

“I brought some ice cream and a movie. Vanilla ice cream and Mean Girls,” he adds when Cecil makes an indecisive noise.

Damnit, Earl knows his weaknesses. “I’ll get some blankets and stuff.”

For a long time, they just enjoy the movie, sitting by each other and not quite touching. It’s nice though. It reminds him of when they were two kids hanging out before all the romantic stuff got involved.

The movie ends around noon, and both are quiet for a moment. “Hey Cee,” Earl asks eventually. “You love Carlos, don’t you.”

Cecil freezes, not quite sure what to say but, “Yeah, I do. It’s not that anything’s wrong with you Earl, it’s just…”

“We didn’t work out. I get that Cee, I do,” Earl assures him. “I just want to know you’re happy with him.”

“I am.” The words don’t need any thinking about. Carlos makes him happy, so _happy_ , and that’s why it hurts so much that he’s gone. “We’re, he’s my…”

“Intended?” At Cecil’s nod, Earl smiles genuinely. “Good Cee. I’m happy you found him. I’m just sorry this is so hard for you.” He squishes Cecil into a one-armed hug.

“I miss him,” Cecil admits, voice low. “It’s just, I didn’t know you could miss someone this much. And everyone’s been so nice about it, but they… they expect me to be strong. To continue and endure. Some days it’s just hard.”

“Cecil,” Earl says, voice firm as if talking to a small child. “No one expects you to be strong but you. What you’re going through isn’t easy; it’s okay to be upset, to show how much you hurt. You may be the Voice, but you’re human.”

Cecil smiles wanly as he scrubs at the tears gathering in his eyes. “Thanks Earl,” he says thickly, throat tight.

“No prob, Cee. That’s what friends are for.”

**í gσт тнαт ѕυммєятíмє, ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ, ѕ-ѕ-ѕυммєятíмє, ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ  
gσт тнαт ѕυммєятíмє, ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ, σн, σн, σн, σн, σн**

/=\=/=\=/=\=/=\

**ĸíѕѕ мє нαя∂ вєƒσяє уσυ gσ**  
 **ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ**  
 **í Ĵυѕт ωαηтє∂ уσυ тσ ĸησω тнαт, вαву, уσυ'яє тнє вєѕт**

Hearing Carlos’ voice is a physical relief. Cecil presses himself to the door, both hands gripping his phone in a white-knuckle grip. “Carlos?” he whispers. “Carlos, is that really you?”

“Yeah,” Carlos says, voice thick and he swears he can hear the tears in Carlos’ voice too. “It’s me Cecil. I’m so sorry I didn’t call you sooner. I didn’t realize… I’m just _so_ sorry Cecil.”

“It’s okay Carlos, my dear, precious Carlos. It’s just so good to hear your voice. I… I _miss you_ so much.”

“I know Cece, I miss you too _corazon_.” And Carlos must be tired if he’s speaking in Spanish, but it still warms Cecil’s heart to hear because there hasn’t been a language he couldn’t understand yet. “ _Te amo, te adoro, y te extraño. Tu eres mi vida, mi angel, y no puedo esperar abrazarte y te besar._ ” Carlos pauses then continues in a small voice. “I’m sorry I don’t tell you things like that more often Cece. I really do love you, more than I ever would’ve thought possible, but it’s just… It’s hard to show it sometimes, a lot of the time really. I’m… I’m not used to it, I guess, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. But I just want you to know that you’re everything to me Cecil Palmer, and I’ll do everything for you.”

Cecil is crying, tears running down his face. He knows Carlos loves him, he’s known before the words ever left his mouth because of their bond, but it’s so different hearing him say it, to put it into words. That, on top of just hearing his voice after so long, is enough to reduce him to tears.

And Carlos knows, because his voice takes on a soothing, pleading tone. “Oh, Cecil don’t cry, please don’t, _por favor no llores, me rompe el corazon_.”

His voice is thick with tears, but he smiles. “Carlos Mendez, I love you so much, more than you will ever know. I can’t wait to see you again so hurry up and don’t you dare get into trouble when I can’t help you.”

“I'll try not to Cece. I promise.”

They talked more, but what needed to be said is said.

And that’s good enough for now.

**í gσт тнαт ѕυммєятíмє, ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ, ѕ-ѕ-ѕυммєятíмє, ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ  
gσт тнαт ѕυммєятíмє, ѕυммєятíмє ѕα∂ηєѕѕ, σн, σн, σн, σн, σн**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish translations:  
> corazon: (sweet)heart  
> Te amo, te adoro, y te extraño. Tu eres mi vida, mi angel, y no puedo esperar abrazarte y te besar: I love you, I adore you, and I miss you. To are my life, my angel, and I can't wait to hug you and to kiss you.  
> por favor no llores, me rompe el corazon: please don't cry, it breaks my heart
> 
> (If you see this needs corrections, please tell me.)
> 
> So, yes, my thing with Cecil/Earl: I ship it when they were kids. Now that they're older, it's more of a friend thing. There's awkwardness, yeah, but they were friends before they dated, and they're friends after they dated.

**Author's Note:**

> I. HATE. FORMATTING.


End file.
